


Odds

by Mjazilem



Category: 12 Monkeys, 12 Monkeys (TV)
Genre: Drabble, Gen, Whump, hurt comfort
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-07
Updated: 2015-02-17
Packaged: 2018-03-10 23:27:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3307208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mjazilem/pseuds/Mjazilem
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So as episode four was coming up I had some thoughts on what would happen if Cole splintered back to Cassie in the middle of the raid. No actual spoilers. Now with some 2018 2017</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

They had sent him back in the middle of the raid in a desperate attempt to keep his mission moving forward. There hadn't been any time for prep or his usual injections so the splintering was more painful than usual and on top of that he'd been time to program in the coordinates as persicwly as they wanted to everything had been a flurry of activity and desperation. What were the odds he would splinter into the past and drop at Cassandra Railly's feet? A billion to one maybe more. Fate must like him. 

Cassie had been on her way out to pick up supplies that's what she called groceries now that she was in hiding. She had been abut to grab her keys until Cole appeared in her kitchen doubled over in pain and promptly fell to the floor taking one of the kitchen table chairs with him.

She drops her purse and runs to him. "Cole!" He looked worst then she'd ever seen him, pale and shakey. He's on his hands and knees coughing and sobbing. Blood runs from his mouth and nose and a cut at his cheek wherea dark bruise is forming. 

"Cole?" Cassie asks as she kneels down beside him "Cole, what hurts?" She can't see with his face as he coughs blood into the cold kitchen floor. 

She touches his shoulder and he turnes his head up towards her. "Can you stand?" She wants to get him to the couch. 

He pants as blood drips from his mouth on to the floor. He holds his stomach with one hand as his bloodshot eyes water. He looks to to Cassie and speaks, his voice is raw and horse. "Can't hear you, there was an explosion." 

She doesn't get to ask any questions before his eyes unfocused and he passes out. She eases his head to the floor. 'Thank goodness he appeared here and not in the middle of a North Korean base' she thinks 'maybe there's still some luck left in the universe.'

She shrugs her jacket off, folds it and places it under Cole's head. He looks beat up and torn apart, splintered. Perhaps it was because there was an explosion like he said. 'Did something go wrong with the machine or was the explosion something else?' 

She looked him over to see what might need her attention first. 

His pants are ripped at the right knee and taking a closer look she found a jagged gash that would definitely need to cleaned and stitched. She wonders if they have tetanus shots in his time. 

He wakes up after she stitches and bandages his knee and starts to clean his bloody knuckles. She feels his eyes on her and turns to see his dark eyes cracked open. "Hey there." She says softly and then remembers he might not be able to hear her. Hopeful any hearing damage was temporary. 

She grabbed some paper and a pen from a nearby drawer and quickly writes something to him. 'What hurts?'

He closes his eyes and then looks at the pad she holds out in front of him. He seems to have difficulty focusing on the words which might indicate a concussion. After a second where Cassie is certain he's about to say 'everything' he does narrow it down "head, ribs, leg..." He starts his list but it quickly desolves into a groan and he brings his hands up to hold his head. 

Cassie takes him by the elbow and he looks at her through one eye as she motions for him to get up off the floor. He's used to having to move when he's told to,it's often life or death so he makes every effort to get on his feet.

He pushes up with his left leg and a painfilled sob escapes under his breath. Cassie hold onto him tight and tried to take any weight that he might put on his right knee. They make it slowly across the floor and she directs him to the couch. 

He winces as he sits down and groans as his body protests. He's soon coughing and Cassie gets a glass of water and the paper and pen from the kitchen. 

He holds he glass of water weakly and gulps. "Hey slow down!" She cautions. He doesn't hear or ignors the advice and winds up choking and sputtering. She takes the glass from him as he holds his ribs. 

When he finally settles laying weakly against the back the the couch she writes to him again. He closes one eye and squints to read that she wants to look at his ribs. 

He gives her a curt nod and awkwardly manuvers his shirt up for her.his side I sine big black and blue bruise. She gives him a sympathetic look as she runs her fingers as gently as she can along his ribs to check for anything out of place. He jumps a couple of times but nothing appears broken or dislocated they might be cracked or just badly bruise. There's nothing she can do in either case except off cue and pain meds so she puts his shirt down and moves to get those things. His fingers brush at her hand as she gets up to leave. "Thanks" it's a breathy and painfilled expression of his gratitude, small but meaningful. 

By the time she gets back with the ice and the good meds he's asleep and all Cassie can do is wait, she used to it by now.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 2018 with some 2017

Year 2018

James was numb. Numb to the cold. To the men with guns that seemed to be everywhere, who he would have found terrifying not to long ago and to the crying both that of other people and himself. 

Tears sometimes ran down his face now, he wouldn't feel them start but he would suddenly feel the wetness on his cheeks. 

He had reason to cry. A year ago people had started getting sick and dying. He had been five years old at the time. 

He didn't like to think back to that time he could remember being so sad when his grandpa had gotten sick and died and then the neighbor lady and her daughter had died. 

Then he and his mother were being told to leave their home. 

His Mother had cried a lot. He had been sad that they had to leave the kitty cat because cats weren't allowed where they were going.

Jamie, that's what his mother had called him, had been so upset that they'd had to leave that old grey cat. He had pleaded with his mother 'who would feed Smokey?' 

She had assured him that Smokey would be alright and that he'd be able to eat lots of mice while they were gone and he'd be fat and happy when they got back home. 

But they never went back to that little row home in Chester. Now they'd never go back. His mother had gotten sick while they waited to be processed into the quarantine shelter surrounded by strangers. 

She had appeared to him to just be tired. He knew that she had to be tired after their trek and the standing and waiting. She'd told him not to worry that they were where they could get help. He had been standing under her arm with his face buried in her side when she'd started to sway and then fell. 

She was gone in minutes she died on the dirty hard ground while he knelt over her crying, shaking and screaming 'mom.' 

When she'd fallen everyone who'd been crowed tight and pushing forward towards the shelter entrance with them had moved away fast leaving Jamie and his mother suddenly in the open, no one had made a move to help them. 

The next thing he knew he was being pulled away from her by people in plastic suits and masks. He kicked and screamed and scratched at the men as they rushed him away. He fought the best he could but they lifted him easily, he'd always been small for his age. 

He saw as he looked back over his shoulder his mother being wrapped in plastic. The thought that she wouldn't be able to breath flickered through his panicked mind quickly then he'd remembered she was gone and he'd cried till he didn't have anymore tears. 

They took him to decontamination. The people behind masks striped him and took away his clothes, the sneakers his mom had bought him special for his birthday with the turtles on them that would light up when he walked and the bag he'd had with a few things from home. They threw them on a pile to be burned and threw him into a shower that burned his skin and made his eyes sting. 

When it was over he stood dripping, shivering and naked while the armed guards stood watching him. 

He was given another set of clothing most of which was too big and ushered him into a blocked off part the shelter. There were men with guns and masks at the door and lots of people and some beds. 

James was pushed in and then left. The large room was somber, there was a murmur when he entered but no one paid much attention to him they were all caught up in there own problems. 

He could hear people crying, and saw some pacing, some tearing at their hair, others sat with vacant eyes that frightened him. 

All James knew was that he was alone and waiting to die because what had killed everyone else should kill him too, right? 

He hadn't died and now a year later he was still at the 'shelter.' He was one of the immune. One of the lucky. 

How lucky he wasn't sure. He was dirty and wearing rags. He hadn't spoken much in the last year. He'd lived on what little rations he could get his hands on. He hadn't had hot food or milk in a year. 

He kept hearing how the world was over and he believed it must be true. Things were getting more chaotic than before. 

He had to fight harder and harder in his little corner of the camp to get food and water, until finally it became nearly impossible. The food supply wasn't what it had been and there were adults who were taking things over. 

The shelter was starting to divid into groups determined to look after their own. 

No one wanted to have to take care of the hundreds of orphans that the virus had left, orphans like him. 

He tried taking what he needed. He was small and mostly not noticed. He took what he could get his hands on, it was never much, just enough to keep him going. 

His mother had taught him that stealing was wrong but she wasn't here now in this place, she didn't know how desperate he was. 

Everyone in the camp was desperate and taking from others came with risks. 

James had his back to the camp as he huddled in the corner eating as quickly as he could the crackers he'd slipped off with. A big hand connected with the back of his head knocked him to the ground and stunned him. 

A big man stood over him red faced and furious. “You took something of mine Boy.” 

“I, I...” The little boy stammered. He had taken from this man and he was caught red handed. 

The man slapped James across the face and then hit him again. “How dare you take from me.” The man continued hitting the small boy without sign of stopping. The man's rage and frustrations were being taken out on James. No one seemed to care until someone cutting through the crowd that was watching from a distance shouted “Stop!”


End file.
